


young years

by ShippingThings



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Boarding School, F/F, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, kids are mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 22:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10626447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingThings/pseuds/ShippingThings
Summary: When Lena loses her father, her mother ships her off to Excelsior Academy where she meets Roulette, then known as Veronica Sinclair.ps. it's gay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> if this doesn't start a Roulena uprising, our blood, sweat, and tears were for nothing.

Lena remembers it was hot, sweltering. On days like that, it’s supposed to rain and yet, there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. Lillian Luthor looked the same as she always did. Tall and sharp. Even with the loss of her late husband. Lex, in stark contrast, was a mess. His eyes were rimmed red and his face was streaked with tears. It was the only time she’d ever seen him cry, but Lena clinged to him, scared. Scared of death and scared of change.

She didn’t recognize a single face within the large crowd, but knew their kind. All of them were like her mother. They towered over her, indifferent towards her, and reeked of money. Lena wondered if any of them even knew her father at all. Only Lex and herself looked to be affected.

She remembers how the sun felt, burning into the back of her black dress, and how her tears mixed with sweat. When she’d try to dry her face with her small hands and wrists, only more moisture would accumulate until she was clumsily sobbing along with her brother. For this, she understood. At eleven years old, she was losing another family.

In the end, the funeral seemed more like a business arrangement than an event for mourning. A lot like what’s happening right now.

There are people with fancy titles, in fancy attire, using fancy language to discuss her future as if she isn’t within hearing distance. She hugs her teddy bear a little tighter to her face, trying to get a whiff of home, of safety, but the smell is losing its strength and she is losing her courage.

It’s been a long drive. Full of Lex talking on deaf ears about how great this would be for her. Lena disagrees. This school is a part of a system that connects from elementary through college so outsiders are rare. She’ll stick out and that’s the last thing she wants.

One of the adults addresses her, but only to give her more orders. They tell her which room she’s been assigned. She thanks them and makes a hasty exit, eager to be anywhere, but here.

The walls are yellow. Lena’s read before that if you stare at this color long enough, you’ll go lose your mind. Lex helps to unpack the last of her things into her room. He tries to crack jokes to make her smile, but her mood is damning. This won’t be the last time they see each other, but it feels like a permanent goodbye. Maybe it’s knowing they won't live together again.

“What did I do wrong?” she asks, confident that this is some form of punishment.

“You didn’t do anything,” Lex says as though he’s sure, but he isn’t. It shows.

“Couldn’t you convince her to allow me stay home?” she tries again. “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet and do whatever she says.”

“If I could, do you really think you’d be here right now?” he huffs, bothered that she doesn’t trust him. He did try. She’s arguably the most important person to him in this world and losing her is like losing a part of himself.

“No,” she grumbles. Lena knows there’s no good way to get out of this. She supposes that she should be grateful that her mother let her finish at her old school before shipping her away, but she isn’t grateful. She’s agitated and afraid.

“I helped find it, so it shouldn’t be so bad.” He shoots her a smile over his shoulder, and when he spots her crossed arms, he adds, “Try to enjoy it.”

When he starts to leave, she tries to make him stay, but he doesn’t. He can’t. So she throws herself onto her new bed, curls up with her stuffed animal, and sighs. She doesn’t expect the door to swing open so suddenly and three girls to barge in, laughter jarring in the once silent room.

“Oh, you must be the new girl,” the first of them groans. “Just what I wanted. Less space.”

“Hello. I’m-”

“We don’t care who you are,” another snaps, stopping the words in her throat.

“Is that a stuffed animal?” the last one taunts.

Lena feels her cheeks grow rosy, but answers, “Yes.”

“How _old_ are you?” asks the girl Lena now knows to be her unwilling roommate.

She shifts uncomfortably, responding, “Thirteen?” with a tilt, posing it as a question.

“And you still have stuffed animals? Great, I’m rooming with a child,” she complains. Her two friends giggle behind her at Lena’s expense. “This is so sad.”

“I’m sorry,” Lena says, missing the reason for her hostility, “You can’t be much older than me.”

Her roommate scoffs in return. “Whatever, I’ll be back when you’re done polluting the place with your unwanted presence,” and storms out with her friends following her lead.

Lena falls back onto her bed and stares at her ceiling. She thinks she’ll go crazy here, yellow paint or not.

There’s more laughter and Lena shuts her eyes and covers her ears, willing it away, but it only grows louder. So she peaks through one eye towards the door only to catch a glimpse of a faint smirk and long unruly dark brown hair with blonde strands scattered randomly throughout before it disappears. Whoever overheard her thinks the situation much more amusing than she does.

That night after her roommate returns, acknowledging her existence with only an eyeroll before getting ready for bed. Lena tries not to let it bother her and attempts to sleep. She’s laying in her unfamiliar bed, staring up at the yellow stained walls, that she’s starting to think might be the worst color she’s ever laid her eyes on, when the other girl speaks up.

“Holy shit!” she shouts, jumping upright.

Lena turns to find the girl's eyes wide, hyper focused on her.

“You’re Lena Luthor.” The awe in her voice makes Lena uncomfortable. It sounds like envy. She doesn’t see what there is to be envious of in her life. Lena checks her peripheral and finds what gave her away. She left one of her books at her desk with her name neatly scrawled on it’s cover.

“Yes, I am,” she says, feigning confidence when she’s really feeling smaller than ever.

“I’m Madison Baker. I’m sorry about earlier. I was in a bad mood. What’s it like being a Luthor?” the girl rushes out, seemingly deciding that Lena is worthy of her attention now that she knows her name.

It takes a lot of effort for Lena to force the smile that’s on her face right now. She falls back into the role Lillian would force upon her for social events and business arrangements. “Just like you would imagine,” she replies with her chin up, tone even, yet uninviting.

“That’s cool,” Madison says, mood dropping, but knowing not to continue. “Good night then.”

“Good night,” she closes, feeling defeated.

Lena enjoys her classes more than she thought she would. They’re relatively easy and mostly book work which she does best. The teachers like her enough, or pretend to, and after word spreads of who she is, the other students don’t pick on her anymore. They actually make an effort for her which is new and nice, but something about it feels off. Even though she knows there is more to it than them wanting to befriend her, she goes along with it. All she’s had thus far was Lex and he isn’t here, so she has to make do, even if it goes against her better judgment.

Days pass by and she makes some acquaintances. People who greet her politely whenever they see her and she returns the favor each time. Her roommate is quiet in her presence and so are her friends when they stop by for a visit, which is nice because Lena’s love for reading halts for no one. Though she is a bit lonely, she bears with it. When she writes home, she mentions the pleasantries she’s shared with others and all she’s learned, neglecting to add how wrong it all feels.

How she feels exactly, she isn’t sure. Everything is blurring together. People’s faces, voices, even the days all blend into one, but many. Only one word really makes sense and that’s bad. It doesn’t capture it perfectly and it isn’t eloquent, but that’s this place. That’s her.

It’s the third saturday of the school year and Lena is somehow regretting her enrollment in this school even more. It’s her own fault, really, that she is where she is. She could have rejected the invitations, but in hopes of making a genuine friend, she accepted. And for the first time, she’s surrounded by kids her own age in a social setting. Even though the activities they are partaking in are unsavory, she secretly revels in the new environment.

Then, oh, there’s that hair again, she notices. Unruly and poorly bleached. It belongs to a slim, yet muscular asian girl leaning against the kitchen counter. Lena finds herself staring into dark eyes that scream of mischief. A grin settles on the girl’s face as she strolls over and Lena decides that she doesn’t like her.

“You’re the new girl, right?”

Lena nods in a reserved manner and the taller girl’s lip twitches.

“Well, welcome to Excelsior Academy,” she whispers a little too close before moving back. “I’m Veronica Sinclair,” the girl introduces dropping a red cup in Lena’s open hand in lieu of shaking it, “And you’re too tense.”

Lena tries to maintain eye contact while she accepts the drink, but Veronica looks over her shoulder, spots someone she knows, and walks off without another thought. Lena’s left with the scent of cherries. It’s a relief when she loses her because Lena decides that she really doesn’t like her. But now Lena can’t seem to escape her.

“You have to get me out of here. Please, Lex. The people keep gawking at me and I’m pretty sure I’m the target of some elaborate prank,” Lena begs. She’s thankful that their discussion is in private. She can’t be this person in front of anyone, but him.

“That’s not what you said in your letters,” he asserts, back turned to her as he sets up a chessboard.

“I know mother reads those and I didn’t think about it until now, but it makes sense,” Lena puffs out. She’s tired of this place and she’s not in the mood for any more games.

“It doesn’t. A few hellos don’t equal people plotting against you.” He’s rolling his eyes now, vexing her further.

“No one is ever this nice to me,” she points out, arms crossing.

“Ahem,” Lex coughs dramatically, gesturing to himself with what she assumes must be his attempt at a charming smile. He fails.

“No one is ever this nice to me except for you,” she amends with a taste of bitterness.

“Thank you.”

“I know they talk about me when they think I’m out of earshot,” Lena continues. “I know they’re laughing at me.”

“You’re a little egocentric,” he chuckles, thinking that she’s definitely his sister.

“I’ve _heard_ them say my name,” Lena argues back. She’s not overthinking this. Just because she hasn’t had much experience interacting with other children, doesn’t make her insights wrong.

“I’m sure they were saying all good things,” Lex sighs, exasperated, “Now make your move, you’ve been playing with that pawn forever now.”

Lex loses that game.

When Lena goes back to her room that night, the three girls from her first day are all there waiting for her. She pushes open the door. Their mouths clench shut and eyes snap to hers.

Definitely talking about her. Slowly, she ventures into the room, feeling uneasy in the silence with their eyes following her movements, analyzing her. It feels like whatever mean things they were saying are still echoing against the walls, making her awkward in her own room.

She’s putting away her things, shifting uncomfortably as she feels one of them move closer.

“Lena?” It’s her roommate. Turning to look at her, Lena feels uneasy. “We wanted to apologize.”

Lena’s eyes widen in surprise for just a moment before she blinks away the expression, trying not to give away too much. “Thanks,” she replies wearily, “but why?”

“We were a little… Harsh before.”

“Understatement.”

“We know, _but_ we want to make it up to you.”

Lena knows this could be a trap, but she’s not in the best place to turn down opportunities for friendship. “How?”

All three of the other girls’ faces turn up into grins. “Do you have a dress?”

She’s a Luthor. Of course she has a dress.

Thirty minutes later, when they’ve covered her face in makeup and helped her into a dress and pair of heels, the girl named Claire shoves her out the window after Madison and Hannah.

Surprisingly, Lena doesn’t regret the decision to attend this party as much as the first. It’s more like a get together than a banger. And it’s outside the high walls of the campus and anything that gets her away from that prison is a good thing.

Not 10 minutes later, she catches those familiar sharp cheekbones and a flash of brown and blonde hair moving gracefully through the crowd.

Veronica.

Lena follows her through the party with her eyes, not because she wants to, but because she has to. There is just something about the other girl that enraptures her. She doesn't strike Lena as the type of person who settles for anything less than exactly what she wants. She looks fluid, in her element, surrounded by a mass of others probably seeing exactly what Lena’s seeing for the first time. She is in complete control, comfortable and good at what she does. In a way, Lena’s envious.

Eventually, Veronica stills, opting for a longer conversation, and Lena can really take in how she looks tonight. Her long hair lays loose over an oversized leather jacket, hiding most of her dark red top underneath, while her black jeans stretch with movement against her legs. Lena moves her gaze to her face, the sharp slant of bones, and the curve of her nose. She gets caught up in the waves of brown in her eyes, something about them almost bewitching. They’re deep and cunning, giving off the feeling that she can read into the future. When Lena realizes how she can even make that observation, it’s too late to hide her staring. Veronica raises an eyebrow at her in acknowledgment and that playful smirk reappears. Lena flushes and turns away, taking a sip of whatever’s in her cup, while Veronica makes her way over.

“So we meet again,” she greets, forcing Lena to again make eye contact.

Lena forces a smile. “So we do.”

“Didn’t think I’d see you again. Thought I scared you off,” she baits, her tone’s cocky, playful. Her fingers tap absent mindlessly against the solo cup in her hand as her eyes survey Lena. “Want to play a game?” she asks.

This startles Lena, it seems like a weird thing to ask a stranger, but she nods nonetheless. Why, she isn’t sure. It feels like it’s an opportunity she can’t lose.

Veronica turns toward a group of four and beckons her over. That crooked smirk is infuriating and yet it causes the oddest of sensations in Lena’s stomach. It’s almost pleasant, not that she would ever admit that aloud.

Upon the pair’s arrival, the other kids shoot Lena a look she’s become familiar with during her months at Excelsior Academy. Judgment.

“I’ve got our sixth player.” Veronica declares triumphantly, prompting looks her way.

One of them must decide this is unsatisfactory because a second later she is grabbing at Veronica’s arm and luring her away, whispering in her ear. Whatever the girl says, she doesn’t like it.

Veronica turns to the girl by her side and gives her an obviously forced smile, responding just loud enough for Lena to hear. “You don’t have to play if you don’t like it. I can easily find someone else to take your spot.”

The girl scoffs, disbelief written on her face, though her lips tremble conveying how she really feels. “Jesus. Who knew you had a soft spot?” Veronica gives her another look. “Damn. Sorry, okay?”

Lena watches Veronica come back, not sure how to react to the event that just took place before her.

“So, are we still playing?” she questions casually.

The other members of the group nod, seemingly intimidated by Veronica.

Interesting, Lena thinks, watching as the other girl moves to sit. Why did someone that obviously has some sort of pull with the people around her choose _her_ , who hardly has any friends here at all. What’s to gain from that?

Veronica sits and takes out of deck of cards, flipping through them for six numbered cards. Lena watches her pull one through six. Someone else pours a shot of vodka into an empty glass and then fills the other five with water. When Veronica lays the cards face up, the other girl mixes the glasses before placing a glass on each card. A die sits in front of her that Veronica picks up, shaking it against her palm and within her curled fingers.

“This is kind of like Russian Roulette. Do you know how to play?”

“No, but I can guess.” At that, Veronica chuckles.

“We each roll the die. If you get the same number as someone else, roll again. Then take the shot on the same number card. Simple,” she explains as she lets the die hit the table.

“Six,” Veronica says cheekily, which is well deserved because of course she would get a six. “Your turn.”

Deciding to be bolder than she is, Lena picks up the die. When she rolls a one, she allows herself a small smile. Veronica’s smile is much larger and Lena feels a burst of pride.

The die’s passed around until everyone has a number. Timed the best tipsy teenagers are capable of, they all drink at once. Thankfully, Lena’s spared. It’s obvious who isn’t so lucky because she’s having a fit, dramatically coughing on her side, while another girl pats her back. The others, of course, are laughing uproariously, Veronica included.

Lena keeps her eyes on the other girl as her head tilts back, sharp lines of her on full display as she laughs. It feels good to not to be the one being made fun of. It feels better to know they’re laughing with each other in good nature rather than maliciously teasing someone.

When Veronica turns back to Lena, their eyes meet again. Lena blinks out of her slight trance and tries for a smile, feigning nonchalance. The other girl offers back her signature smirk, gaze once again assessing her as she takes another sip from her cup from earlier.

“Doesn’t drinking on your own ruin the point of the game? The person who gets drunk first loses, right?” Lena asks her as the others set up another round.

“You’ve got it all wrong. The only point is to have fun. There is no winning or losing,” she explains before picking the die up again. “Six.” Seemingly to punctuate her point, that glass is the one with vodka in it.

When the liquor hits her lips, Veronica lets a hiss slip out in reaction. Her eyes crinkle and water around the edges and Lena feels almost giddy that she produces any reaction at all. So she’s human after all. Veronica nudges her shoulder, expression unreadable, and Lena lets out a laugh.

They play enough rounds that everyone gets drunk, though some had to stop playing halfway through to avoid vomiting. Thankfully, tomorrow’s not a school day.

**Author's Note:**

> find us on tumblr:  
> [spadeflake](blakebat.tumblr.com)  
> [ShippingThings](darlinglena.tumblr.com)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated.


End file.
